Good Boy Lost
by Lyon's Own
Summary: Draco, tired of being a good boy is ready for the end. Might he find a new beginning instead? Warnings: HPDM SLASH Character Death Molestation and Abuse Mentions COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox for a little while. I'll put them all back clean-promise!

**A/N:** This is my very very first shared story. I'm nervous as hell so please review and let me know what you think. Oh yeah and in case you missed the summary and warnings—Note that this story is HPDM SLASH! So if that squicks you don't read. There's a reason for the Back button. One more thing-each chapter is written in a different style or perspective, I'm not sure if it works so if you think I don't manage to pull it off let me know that too.

**A/N 2:** Thanks to **whirlybird**, who so graciously agreed to beta this for me. You rock!

**1.**

I looked in the mirror and saw two of me. The boy the world sees, the façade I have so carefully built and maintained over the years and the other me, the real me, the one who is tainted and dirty, and so very, very tired. The real me knows the image is perfect—flawless skin, lovely golden hair, steely eyes that hold authority and intelligence—that is who they see, who they want. But it's not what I want. Not anymore. I'm so tired of being dirty and hiding my thoughts and feelings behind taunting sneers, bigoted slander and moneyed arrogance. No one sees me and that's as it should be. I have been groomed to show only what is appropriate, to be the consummate presentation of pureblood elegance, and stature. I have been a good boy all my life, though being a good boy has come at such a price.

I became Uncle Mathias' good boy when I was 4. I was so good. He showered me with praise, which pleased my father greatly and I was encouraged to spend as much time with him as possible when he would come for his visits at Christmas and the summer social season. He augmented the teachings of my poise and etiquette tutors and he taught me the importance of soft hands. He said my hands were sweet and baby soft and should always be so, that I was such a good boy when I used my little soft hands on his fat ugly penis. When I was 6 he taught me that my mouth was sweet too.

When I was 8 Mr. Jonathan Ashton, Chief Advisor to the Minister of Magic and one of my father's most utilized business associates, began to frequent our home. He too had things for me to learn, though most of the lessons were review work from Uncle Mathias' teachings. I was his good boy too and my father was so proud and pleased with my gentleman-like manners, my utter acquiescence to the rules of decorum. I was well versed in the language of coercion and its dialects of threats and intimidation, praise and reward. I was fluent in Silence and was a very good boy.

I inherited quite a substantial amount from Uncle Mathias who died when I was 9. "To Draconis Lucien Alexander Malfoy, my dearest nephew, my sweet boy, to you I leave the sum of 250,000 galleons with the wish that you will use it well and wisely, bring honour to our family and continue to hold yourself with the utmost comportment and poise. Yours are capable hands." I remember being mortified during the reading of his will and so very frightened that someone would work out his coded language. But if they did no one said anything. My father commented later that Uncle had always been quite taken with me and though he was sure I'd miss him dearly I mustn't let my grief show outwardly. Malfoys after all do not cry. We are a stoic lot. I, of course, agreed with my father; I suppose Uncle Mathias felt 250,000 galleons was adequate compensation for my innocence, though I'd wanted to laugh. Grieve for that son-of-a-bitch, I don't think so. The only grieving I'd done was for the good boy who really didn't want to be a good boy anymore, who felt dirty and used.

Mr. Ashton was replaced at the Ministry of Magic when I was 10, though in our last meetings he made sure I had plenty to remember him by. The sweet hands and mouth of the good boy were no longer enough. In those last months of his acquaintance with my family I learned that my arse was sweet too.

And so it has continued with several of my father's associates. There have always been one or two who favour young male flesh and I was served up on a golden platter of power and silence. And in the meanwhile I mimicked the behaviours of my elders and parroted their words, earning their approval and validation. But underneath it all I knew.

I knew I was nothing more than a plaything to them. Despite the respect my surname garners I was—I am—a whore. I learned, though, that this is what the politics of pureblooded families was all about—you trade on your name or your looks for more money, more power, more prestige, and coupled with skill, intelligence, or ability to scheme it was a sure-fire way to guarantee success. In the pureblood circles we are all whores. Only I'm tired of trading my arse for my family's alliances and allegiances.

In that house—in Malfoy Manor—I am filth. I am filth everywhere, but especially there. I wanted to come to someplace that was clean and wholesome and good for this, at least for most people it is. I dirty this place with my presence, but not after tonight.

It is the second day back from the Christmas holiday and I have already made my preparations. I went through the motions today and yesterday so no one suspects anything, and by owl I've been drafting documents with a small solicitor's office in Diagon Alley, not Keyes, Sloan and Maurs, the firm that attends to legal matters for the Malfoy family, just a small firm. Richard Byrd and Associates (which is really just Richard Byrd and his secretary Leslie) has served me well and it is through them I have filed my will with the Ministry Office of Magical Records and Documentation. My parents will be shocked, but I've included several clauses that make my will ironclad. It's important these last things be done; I will have the last laugh with my final say. It won't just be my family that's shocked either. No, all who know me, or think they did are in for a surprise, one that I hope will give them an inkling of who I was behind the façade and let them know how sorry I am that the public face hid any trace of kindness or understanding in me.

I've left the majority of my estate—well my accounts at Gringotts in any case—to Hogwarts, with the stipulation that the monies be used to for scholarships: The Lily Evans Award and The Hermione Granger Award, which will assist Muggle-born students in need of financial assistance. The transition from the Muggle world to Wizarding society is, I am sure, an expensive one. The rest, and I really wish I could see my father's face for this, I've left to Ronald Weasley, "in restitution for battering his pride over the years and in acknowledgement that in his family and friends he is wealthier than I have ever been. And that love and acceptance are the true riches." I really hope he'll understand what I'm trying to say. I can't ever make up for the things I've said to embarrass him in the past but I really want him to understand that not having money is nothing to be ashamed of, that money is only a tool and that despite my upbringing I knew who was the truly wealthy one between us.

I don't have anything to call my own besides what I've brought back with me and of those things there are few things that are worth giving away. I only really have one friend so I've left my grandfather's pocket watch to Blaise because he has always admired it and he is always late no matter how hard he tries. I figure if he's got a nice watch he might actually pay attention to the time. He has been the closest thing to a brother that I have ever had. We might not ever say it--that pureblood stoic thing again--but we love each other and I'm going to miss him, even though I've kept secrets from him too.

There are two other trinkets I'm leaving behind, a pendant of onyx and platinum in the shape of a mighty dragon and a platinum ring that bears the same cast. I had the ring engraved over the holiday and I am leaving these to my secret love. The one with whom I could only share glimpses of my true being and the one to whom I could never offer myself as I am a filthy whore and he is all that his bright and beautiful. I hope he will keep them, though I doubt he will ever wear them and in a way I'm glad of that because though I purchased them for myself years ago, they were bought with tainted money and have lain against my filthy skin.

The two of us smile in the mirror—a real one, and those have not made an appearance for a while. But it comforts me and fills me with happiness I thought long forgotten that I will carry my love for him with me to someplace eternal. In the note I place in the packet with the pendant and ring I said that…'You will always have love.' I admit I backed out at the last moment for I was tempted to write 'You will always have _my _love,' but what does it really matter. My love, his parents' love, his godfather's, the Weasley's, the Granger girl's, or that of the Wizarding world it is true. He will always have love. I hope he remembers that.

This morning I placed the packets for Harry, Blaise and the letter for Richard Byrd in the day delay box in the owlery. They'll be delivered tomorrow morning before too much gossip can spread and before my parents get their hands on my stuff.

I'm really glad this classroom has such a nice view of the sunset, as it is my last. Dinner is well under way and everyone should be in the Great Hall so I know there's not the slightest chance I'll be found; besides this classroom is in an unused section of the castle. I've transfigured a teacup into a tub of warm bath water. I've applied numbing salve to my arms and taken a phial of numbing potion and another of blood thinner that I've been saving for just this occasion. I've left a note naming names….in death I will NOT be a good boy. I will not keep silent. And I am as ready as this used up whore is going to get.

I slipped into the tub and grimaced at the feel of the water soaking my black robe. I'm certainly not going to die naked! I'd like to spare myself a little dignity at least, plus I love these robes. I saw them at Madam Malkin's when I was shopping for Christmas presents for my parents and family and knew right away they were for me. Black with a high neck and embroidered with a silver dragon down the left side. They'll be ruined in the water and the lovely embroidery will probably turn pink or something, but as this is my funeral I get to say what I'm going to wear. They can make all the decisions they want to about my body when I'm no longer here to care.

I stole the knife from my father's study. It's beautiful and deadly just like him. Cold and unfeeling just like him. I dragged the blade down my left forearm from elbow to wrist fascinated by the look of my parting flesh and the flow of blood. I transfer the knife and do the same to my right arm. I've cut deep and the blood rushes out. It's really frightening and gruesome actually. But it means something beautiful. It means I will be free and maybe wherever I end up I will be purged and once again be clean. Clean and wholesome in a way I have never been in life no matter how hard I've scrubbed or how long I've soaked. But this way….in this bath of blood the filth will come away and I will be clean again. I close my eyes and wait. It won't be long now, already I feel weak and my eyes are heavy. Soon the whore will die and I will be free...soon…soon…soon…


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Again--not mine not mine not mine. All recognised characters belong to the licensed copyright holders.

**A/N:** Sentences in italics indicate thoughts. Individual words in italics indicate emphasis.

I've edited this chapter as well so please review! And thanks again to **whirlybird**, my wonderful beta!

**2.**

The evening deliveries were made as usual. Hundreds of owls came through the windows to drop off post and parcels missed in the morning post or the late edition paper. At two opposite tables two very different boys were surprised to receive small packets as neither was expecting anything. Blaise put down his goblet of pumpkin juice and delicately wiped his fingers on his napkin, even though he'd yet to eat anything. Efficiently and wordlessly he opened his packet, pulling first the palm-sized box within, then the accompanying letter. He opened the box first and was surprised to find a replica of the watch he'd so admired on his friend Draco Malfoy.

"Oooh Blaise that's so nice. Is it a late Christmas present or something?" Pansy Parkinson cooed, or thought she cooed, from over her fellow Slytherin's shoulder.

Blaise cast her an annoyed look and quickly secreted the box away. "What it is Pansy is none of your business." The girl pulled away affronted and pouting as he opened the attached letter, which he noted was dated for the following day. _Someone mixed-up the day delay and evening post again. They really shouldn't keep those boxes right next to each other_. He chuckled to himself, just as he began to scan the page and became more and more pale as he read.

A similar scene was played out at the Gryffindor table where Harry Potter ripped open his parcel, and pulled a silver silk handkerchief from inside. It fell open in his hand and he marvelled at the fine craftsmanship in the jewellery, He'd never had a particular affinity for dragons, especially after the Tri-Wizard tournament, though he'd continued to admire the proud and beautiful creatures. The jewellery reminded him of another proud and beautiful creature-his own dragon and he was pleased to now own something that so fully reminded him of the boy who'd secretly stolen his heart. He indulged a bit of fantasy that they'd been sent by Draco, with whom he'd struck up a fragile friendship at the start of the term, but pushed that thought aside as ridiculous as he admired the handkerchief's contents. He'd never received gifts of jewellery before and was truly curious to know who would send him such an obviously expensive gift.

He opened the attached card and began to read, blanching as he completed the first line and looking decidedly ill by the end.

"Oi Harry, you alright mate? You're looking right peaky," Seamus asked from across the table concerned about Harry's sudden change in demeanour.

"Harry? He's right you don't look so good. Are you alright? What was in the box? What did the letter say?" Hermione reached over her friend to take the parchment her friend was clutching so tightly. "Harry?"

But he didn't respond, couldn't respond as he was in shock. It took a few moments of Hermione tugging at the letter and Ron tugging at his sleeve for Harry to snap out of it, which he did in a panic, jumping up from the table and running pell-mell to the Head table.

Across the hall, an equally shocked Blaise Zabini watched Harry Potter shoot up from the Gryffindor table and realised that he too must have received the kind of letter Blaise had. He pushed aside his wonder at why Draco would send anything to Potter to join him in the dash to the Head table.

Harry was breathing heavily and babbling at the Headmaster and his Head of House when Blaise arrived at the table too brandishing his letter, speaking quickly to his Head of House.

The Headmaster held up his hands, eyes solemn and looked back and forth between the boys. "What I gather Mr. Potter, Mr. Zabini, from your somewhat disjointed tellings, is that Draco Malfoy sent each of you letters with trinkets he wanted you to have upon his death. These letters informed you that he had committed suicide the day before. But the letters have been delivered early so somewhere in the school you believe Mr. Malfoy is in peril?"

Both boys nodded. Professors Snape and McGonagall stood and left to begin the search. Snape heading to the dungeons, and McGonagall off to the prefects' bathroom and lounge.

The Headmaster held out his hands and each boy gave over the letter he received. Frowning Dumbledore returned the letters and turned to Blaise. "Mr. Zabini there's not much time. Do you have any idea where Draco might have gone?"

Composed but teary eyed the boy hung his head, "No sir. I don't know where he'd go to do something like this."

The Headmaster nodded, "Alright, Blaise I'd like you to return to your table. Please don't speak of this with anyone. Someone will come get you when we have further news. Do you understand?"

The young man swallowed and nodded his head, "Yes sir, I won't say anything." He turned and went back to his table his face blank of any emotion.

Dumbledore turned to Harry and rushed them toward the doors of the hall as he spoke, "Harry, I think we'll need your map. Please hurry and go get it. Madame Pomfrey and—," he looked up to see the Potions Master re-enter the hall, "and Professor Snape will wait for you here. Hurry Harry, I don't think we have much time"

Harry ran out of the hall, hearing Snape say, "He's not in the dungeons…"

He didn't think he'd ever run so fast. He was so scared. "What if—," but he didn't want to think about that, he pushed those thoughts aside and grabbed the Marauder's Map. He scanned it quickly paying close attention to single dots knowing that most students and staff were in the Great Hall for dinner. He finally spotted the mark 'Draco Malfoy' in what looked to be a classroom in the little used Southwest wing.

_Right. 3rd floor, second classroom from the main hallway_. Harry stowed the map in his robe pocket and rushed back to the Great Hall where Dumbledore, McGonagall, Pomfrey and Snape waited speaking in low whispers oblivious to the awkward chattering coming from the hall itself.

"Professors!" Harry gasped as he skidded to a halt in front of them, "He's in the Southwest Wing 3rd floor second classroom from the main hallway!"

He'd barely gotten out his destination when Snape grabbed his arm, "How do you know that Potter?" he snarled at the now frantic young man.

"Never mind how Severus, just accept that he does, now we all must hurry!" Dumbledore admonished making his way rapidly down the hallway.

Snape released Harry who ran past them all determined to help his new friend.

It didn't take that long to reach the classroom and Harry flung open the door, "Dra—NOOOOOOO NO NO NO NO!"

His professors arrived a few moments behind him and stood shocked for a few moments before regaining their composure and quickly got to work. McGonagall pulling the stricken boy into her arms turning his head away from the gruesome sight. "C-Come away P-Potter—they need space so let them work." The usually unflappable professor stumbled a bit and trembled as she guided her student into the hallway.

Harry pulled away and muffled a sob as he slid down the wall, unable to see more than the horrific scene he'd stumbled into—Draco in a pool of blood. Black Red White and Silver-gold.

_He is so still, so pale. Can someone lose that much blood and live? So much blood. He was floating in a tub full of blood. A-and I-I haven't told him yet. H-He might d-die… _Harry rocked himself, arms wrapped around his knees head down. He hadn't yet gathered the courage to tell his friend how much he'd come to care for him. How his feelings had changed to something deeper and now he might never have the chance. It was all so unfair! He looked up finally as Madame Pomfrey led Professor Snape out of the room Draco held securely in his arms, his robes dripping on the floor. Wide-eyed McGonagall quickly cast a drying charm over the still boy's form before the three professors set off for the infirmary at a quick pace.

Using the wall for much needed support Harry pushed himself up and waited for his legs to steady. As he got to his feet the headmaster came from the room, looking as though he'd aged 50 years. He held a roll of parchment in his hand and with the other patted Harry's shoulder.

Harry tried to blink back the tears but he couldn't stop the flow. "He-he's dead isn't he?" he whispered, his voice hoarse and throat tight.

"No Harry," Dumbledore replied quietly, "though it was very close. And he is still in grave danger. Madame Pomfrey was able to close the wounds temporarily, but she'll need to use more extensive healing and repairing spells in the infirmary as well as administer blood-replenishing potions which may not work quickly enough to save young Malfoy's life." The aged wizard sighed, "Do you know Harry—has he given any indication that he was contemplating this drastic course of action?"

Harry shook his head, tears still at the surface, "No sir. I—we haven't been friends long, but I would have noticed if he was going to hurt himself. A-at least I th-think I would," his breath hitched. What kind of friend was he that he didn't notice Draco was in so much pain!

The headmaster shook his head, "This is not your fault Harry. No one saw this coming and we're all rather shaken by what's happened. Hopefully Draco will recover and we'll make sure he gets the help he needs and having his friends support will go a long way to helping him recover. Now why don't you go ahead to the infirmary? You may tell Madame Pomfrey I've given my permission for you to stay by Draco's bedside tonight. I have a feeling he will need you."

Harry nodded and headed off to the infirmary. Relieved that they'd gotten to his friend in time and scared that it still might not be enough to save his life. He sat in the waiting area when he arrived and when Madame Pomfrey emerged from the treatment rooms he passed along Dumbledore's message.

The matron sighed but nodded, "All right Harry you may stay, but you must be quiet and calm and you mustn't touch his arms, really you shouldn't touch him at all. Understand?"

Harry nodded, just glad to be able to sit with his friend. She led him back into a private treatment room where Draco lay in the furthest bed behind a partition. He stepped around the screen and ignored the scowling Potions Master as he sat in the chair closest to the bedside. "Hey Draco you gave us all quite a scare. I hope you'll wake up soon and tell us why you're hurting so much so we can help. I-I mean that's what friends do—help each other."

Snape snorted, "Save the dramatic and false platitudes Potter. I'm sure he has no interest in hearing them," dark eyes narrowed, "What are you doing here anyway?"

"The Headmaster said I could sit with him tonight. And I'm here Professor Snape," his voice took on a harder edge, "because Draco is my friend and he's very sick and weak right now and needs to know that his friends care about him and want him better."

"Well I—"

Madame Pomfrey stormed in, "Severus you are causing a disturbance. Now you really should go check on the students of your house. I'll not have you here upsetting Draco or Harry. Go." She pointed toward the door and tapped her foot impatiently.

Snape snarled but left quietly and Harry continued to talk to Draco throughout the evening and into the night. He told the blond boy how he felt, about things he'd seen that still haunted him. Told him that he wasn't alone in whatever he was fighting. That Harry would be there to help him. As a friend, if nothing more.

In the middle of the night Harry started as Draco took a deep breath, well deep for someone who'd been breathing really shallowly for the last several hours, and opened his eyes.

"It's dark," The silver eyed boy said quietly.

"It's late so yeah it's dark. How do you feel—we were so worried about you Dray."

He chuckled, but it was a raspy bitter sound. "Dray is it now Potter? So Hare—I take it that because you're here that I'm not dead am I?"

Harry took the other boy's hand between his own and stroked small circles over Draco's skin, "S-Sorry it's how I call you in my head sometimes and it just slipped out. And no you stupid git you're not dead. But Merlin Draco! Another minute or two and…and…"

Draco watched with horror as the Golden Boy, the Boy-Who-Lived, He Who was Destined to Defeat the Dark Lord began to cry—over him!

"Shh—shh Harry it's alright. It's alright really," he tried to offer the other boy comfort and was taken aback by the angry fire in those emerald green eyes.

"It's NOT alright. Don't ever say that!" The anger drained leaving Harry tired, "Why Draco? Why don't you want to live? Don't you know how special you are? How many people care about you?"

Again the bitter raspy laugh, "There is NO one who cares about me Harry. I am a body to them, body and façade. Nobody cares about who I am."

Harry squeezed the hand in his gently, "I care…very much Draco. I care so much."

He looked down and ran his free hand through his unruly locks, "I said it before while you were sleeping but I'll say it again now 'cause you deserve to hear it while you're awake, I love you Draco. We started as friends and it's been really nice, but I woke up one day and realised I wanted more, that I loved you as more than a friend." Harry looked up, certain he'd find acceptance in those quicksilver eyes, he was shocked to find tears instead.

"I'm not worth loving Harry," Draco said softly, "I am dirty and tainted and bring filth with me everywhere I go. I'm not worthy of your love."

"But you love me. I know you do. You gave me that ring and pendant. Th-that's what they meant right? You love me?"

The tears came faster, "How-how did you know about that? Those weren't supposed to be delivered until breakfast."

"I guess they came early. We got them at the start of dinner. And thank Merlin we did Draco, you would've been dead if we hadn't," the anger flashed back, "Bloody Hell! What were you thinking!"

The blond looked intently at his green eyed friend. _Damn, this is going to hurt him and I don't want him to hurt. But I can't stay Harry. Not even for you. I'm tired of my dirty filthy body. My fake glamour charmed life. I'm leaving. _ Sadness weighed his thoughts as he took in his friend's appearance.

"Harry?"

"Yes Draco?"

"Do you believe that something comes after this life?"

Perplexed the raven haired boy nodded, "Yes, but what does that have to do with—"

"Shh. I just wanted to know because I think so too." He looked at his friend intently, "Real love doesn't die Harry. I'll love you forever and you'll carry that with you. An-and you-your love for me is something I'll take with me and treasure. A-and maybe when we meet again…well who knows Potter" Again the silver eyes were full of tears and it scared Harry.

"Draco what are you saying? Why are you talking like this? We found you in time. It's going to take awhile but you're going to be okay. You'll get better and then—"

Draco smirked and very carefully raised his hand and placed one pale shaking finger over Harry's lips. "I am a Slytherin Harry…we plan for every contingency." He snorted, "Well the smart ones do anyway." He coughed a little as his breathing once again became erratic. To Harry's shock, more crystalline tears fell, pooling in the hollow of his friend's throat. "I-I planned on dying today Harry. I don't know how you found me or why the owls were early. I'm glad now though because I got to hear you say you love me and see your beautiful face one more time. But I'm going to die. I took two potions before I reached for that knife Harry," he sighed. "The first was a numbing potion, so none of this hurt me really. I didn't feel any pain. The second was a powerful anti-coagulant so my blood would be thinner and flow faster."

Draco looked up into Harry's shocked eyes, "There's another property of the anti-coagulant Harry…if it's combined with standard blood-replenishing potion it becomes a poison. New blood is still produced, though at a much slower rate, but the cells are poisoned and they poison the old cells, until the organ tissue is affected and the tissue dies." He said it all slowly in a clinically detached voice that scared Harry, then seemingly out of blue asked the time.

"It's a little after 10 Draco. About this poison—"

"Shh. There's not much time then. I'm glad I woke up and that you're here with me."

"What do you mean there's not much time. Madame Pomfrey can give you the antidote to cancel the poison. I just have to go get her."

Draco shook his head. "The antidote takes a week to brew Harry and I doubt Even Snape would have it on hand. The damage happens pretty quickly, my heart and lungs will stop working about 5 hours after the potions interact." Draco coughed again, weaker this time, and when the fit ended he was even more pale and sweating slightly.

"You found me in the middle of dinner I guess?" He looked up for confirmation and Harry nodded, "then I have half hour to an hour left Harry. It'll be over soon"

Anger flared again, along with deep sorrow, "Why did you do this? WHY? I- I want you to stay Draco. I don't want to lose you too. I want you to stay here with me. I- I want to love you and hold you and…I want you to be with me. Why didn't you come to me? I would've helped!"

"Why? I'm tired Harry, so very tired of being so very dirty. You're a Legilimens—"

Harry's head snapped up, "How did you—"

Draco smiled faintly, "I didn't I just guessed, but you confirmed it. Be more careful Harry not to give away all your secrets. Keep your wits about you and you'll keep your life."

Stroking Draco's hand, he shook his head. "I'll remember that, but I don't want any secrets from you, between us…"

Draco nodded weakly, "I understand. You can read me Harry, see the why. Look as far as you want."

Harry focused and then he was there quickly scanning Draco's memories stopping here or there to better understand something, it was like using a Muggle microfiche machine, except he knew he could return to view again and again as he'd retained it all and he could examine things in detail later. What he saw angered and sickened him and he sobbed for the boy his love had been, and the terrible trauma he'd endured over and over again.

"I'm so sorry Love. I'-I'm s-sorry those things happened to you. You d-didn't deserve it. You're beautiful and wonderful Draco you didn't deserve any of that... And now I can't-can't fix it and show you different because you're-you're leaving me," he cried harder.

Draco's tears continued falling, "Oh Harry! I don't want this to hurt you. You have to let me go. I'm not worth it okay? I'm not—"

"Don't say that," the other boy hissed. "Don't say you're not worth it or dirty or anything like that. You're beautiful Draco…Inside, not what everyone sees, not your hair or your face or your body, those things are nice, but inside is what counts. Inside is where I see you and that's who I'm in love with. I love you so much!"

Draco shook his head weakly, the effort taxing his failing reserves, "Don't-don't say that Harry. I—"

"No! You listen to me Malfoy," the raven-haired boy cried, "I-I think I'm for you. You-you d-die an-and you condemn me to a-ah-half life because my soul mate is gone. You have to hold on. Promise me!"

The tears fell faster and Draco's voice was little more than a whisper, "I-I'm so sorry my love. I-I didn't know. You…you have to make a life without me Harry—a good life. I know you can—you will. You'll defeat the Dark Lord and you'll do great things. I- I believe in you."

Harry could barely see through his tears. He could feel Draco's body weakening and it hurt to his heart, "I don't want you to go!" He laid his head down on Draco's thigh and sobbed.

Draco lifted his arm as much as he could, barely an inch above the bed and wiped at Harry's cheek with weakened fingers. "C-come lie with me Harry. Lie next to…m-me. Let your arms be the last thing I feel. Your face…the…last thing…I see." The effort exhausted him and he closed his eyes.

Harry panicked and scrabbled up onto the bed and pulling the smaller boy's lithe body into his arms. "Don't go yet Draco! Open your eyes!"

Pale blond lashes fluttered against the bruise like circles beneath the boy's eyes and dazed silver met piercing green. The hint of a smile played on cooling lips. "I have… dreamed…so…long of you…holding me…like this," he whispered, voice nearly gone.

Harry rocked the dying boy in his arms, "I'm here Draco. I'm here and I love you."

"Kiss me Love," came the barest sound. And Harry leaned over and kissed him gently chastely. It was lovely and sweet, and soothed and woke things in him he did not understand. And yet it was oh so wrong because his love's lips we're so cold and his breaths were short. And when he pulled back he could not see for his tears, but he leaned even closer to catch the soft words Draco pushed from his mouth, "They never…kissed me…who'd kiss a whore…use me, fuck me…yes, but never…kissed me. No kisses for… their…good boy…the fil-filthy whore…Kisses are for real lovers. My…first…kiss was perfect. So…wonderful, just like…you." He pulled in as much air as he could and spoke again softly but clearly, "I love you Harry. Love…you."

He was so intent on catching the next words, it was a moment or two before he realised the boy in his arms was no longer breathing. "Draco?" He shook the boy's shoulder. "Dray? Wake up please. Please wake up!" he shook him harder and searched for the pulse he knew wouldn't be there.

Something inside him broke then but he clutched his love to him tightly nonetheless. "You were never dirty Love. It wasn't your fault and I-I'm going to find them and make them pay," Harry's voice broke but the steely determination in his vow was clear.

"We'll be together again I promise. I love you so much." He kissed his love's brow and held him, savouring his fading warmth, taking what comfort he could in the feel of the boy in his arms knowing there would never be another. He sobbed until his strength was gone then finally he too slept.

"Harry? Harry wake up now," a stern but gentle voice chided and he was shaken carefully but firmly. He went to rub the sleep from his eyes but his arm had fallen asleep. He tried lifting it but there was a heavy weight pinning it down…then it all came rushing back. He squeezed his eyes shut again. If he didn't open his yes then it wasn't true, if he didn't look then he could pretend Draco was just sleeping and would wake up soon. Harry's breath hitched...Draco was never waking up again…just as reality sunk in he was grabbed from behind and flung from the bed.

"What the HELL is going on here Potter! What do you think you're doing?"

Shocked Harry watched as Madame Pomfrey yelled at Snape for disturbing her charges and causing an unnecessary scene in a difficult emotionally taxing time. He'd never seen Snape taken down so thoroughly. It was sort of fascinating. But their argument didn't hold his attention long. His gaze drifted back to bed where his angel lay sleeping forever, and the tears gathered again behind his eyes. Oblivious to his professors' silence, unaware that they'd stopped arguing and were now watching him; he made his way back to the bed. He sat on the edge and pulled Draco's unyielding body towards him again. One last time Harry kissed his temple and laid him back down smoothing the sheets around his love's body.

"I'll keep my promise Dray. I love you." The tears he'd been holding back fell and he finally remembered he wasn't alone when he heard a gasp from the end of the bed. He looked up into Pomfrey and Snape's shocked faces.

Regaining his composure quickly Snape sniffed, "Potter the Headmaster wants to see you. I am to escort you to his office immediately. Perhaps you can explain to him what you were doing when I came in just now." The Potions Master sneered and looked sown on his student with disgust.

Harry blinked, "I was sleeping Professor, wasn't that obvious?"

Snape's eyes narrowed, "Come along Potter." His robes swirled as he turned and walked away.

He accepted a hug from Madame Pomfrey and made to follow the irate head of Slytherin House. It didn't take long to reach Dumbledore's office and he wasn't surprised that Madame Pomfrey arrived scant moments after them. He assumed she'd only stayed behind to lock the room where Draco had been and drape his body. Harry shivered at that thought…Draco was gone only his body was left. The thought made him angry and terribly sad. He was so lost in his thoughts he didn't realise the Headmaster had spoken until Madame Pomfrey clasped his shoulder. Slowly he looked up into the concerned face of his mentor.

"Harry—I know this is difficult for you but we need to know what happened last night. When Madame Pomfrey left she said you were in a chair beside Draco's bed with a warning not to touch him so he could heal properly. This morning Professor Snape says he found you holding—"

"Molesting more like. Filthy little—"

Harry turned on his professor and glared ice cold hatred and death in his voice. "You will not use that word in association with **_anything_** that has to do with Draco or me. **_Ever_**."

Snape actually stepped back from Harry, who in his grief was leaking raw magic. A wind was picking up in the room swirling around them angrily and knocking over bits and trinkets here and there. Harry stepped closer to Snape when he heard the Headmaster.

"Harry you will stop this at once. Regain control of your magic my boy."

Harry snapped back from his focus on Snape and the Headmaster continued ignoring the glare his student was casting at one of his staff. "As I was saying Harry, you were found holding Draco this morning and it was discovered that he'd somehow died in the night. We are hoping you can tell us something that might explain what happened? Madame Pomfrey left thinking with certainty he was well on his way to replacing the blood he'd lost and would recover slowly. We've found a very different scenario on our hands."

Harry nodded numbly then sank into a chair in front of the Headmaster's desk. He hung his head. "We were going to lose him no matter what happened," he sniffed.

"And how would you know that Potter? Have you been training as a healer in your spare time?" Snape sneered and Dumbledore snapped.

"Enough Severus. This is painful and traumatic and you will keep your mouth shut if you cannot respect that others besides yourself are grieving," the eyes that usually twinkled merrily glittered with a hardness rarely seen instead as he turned back to the pale shaking student. He flicked his wand stoking the fire and transfigured a sheet of parchment into a think rug which floated to Madame Pomfrey.

"I think he might be going into shock Poppy, would you wrap this around him. We'll keep him warm and make this brief and then I think Mr. Potter should return to the infirmary to rest under your care for the day." The matron nodded and tucked the rug tightly around Harry's trembling form.

"Now my boy you were saying young Mr. Malfoy's death was unavoidable. Can you explain?"

Harry stared at the floor, vision hazy, tears stinging his eyes. "H-he woke up and we spoke," he looked up at the Headmaster, "I didn't fetch anyone because he didn't want to be alone and there wasn't much time."

Harry sighed as a tear fell, "He said he'd taken two potions, one to make him numb so he wouldn't feel—wouldn't feel the c-cuts, and another to-to um—make his blood thinner—an anti-coagulant." Harry raised his head and looked gratefully at the matron who was rubbing his back reassuringly as his breath hitched and he words grew choppy. "He uh-he didn't think he'd be found in time, but just in case the anti-coagulant was-was-um-designed to have a poisonous interaction with the stan-standard blood replacement potions."

Harry didn't notice the tears were coursing down his cheeks, "He was making new blood but it was poisoned and it went into his heart and lungs and he stopped breathing and-and-and his heat stopped beating. And I—" he turned anguished eyes to the headmaster, "I couldn't let him go," he whispered, "I don't think I ever will. Even though he told me I should," he added near silently.

Dumbledore's eyes dimmed, "You loved him very much Harry. I know this will be very hard on you. My door is always open. I'll be here to listen should you need someone to talk to."

Harry cleared his throat, "Thank you Headmaster. I-is there anything else you'd like to know?"

"Yes," the Potions Master snarled, "Why would my godson who was intelligent, strong and had everything going for him commit suicide and why would he turn to you Potter? It was no secret the two of you hated each other."

Harry wiped his eyes and glared at the Professor who'd always hated him, who made his life miserable in so many ways, "We didn't hate each other. He **_loved _**me! And he died because **_YOU _**failed him!" he shouted. "Because I failed him," he added softly.

"No one saw how much he was hurting or how much he needed help. And no one helped him and then—. Then he found out over the holiday…he-he overheard Lu-Lucius Malfoy talking to someone. Peter Pettigrew he thinks-um-thought," Angrily Harry brushed away another tear. "He found out that his father knew. All these years and he knew, sometimes he even set it up if he thought it would help his business or his status with the Death Eaters."

Harry took a deep breath, "I-I don't know how he kept going for so long hiding such horrible things, b-but he did. He was so strong. Knowing it was his f-father though, it was too much. And when he heard th-that Voldemort was—um—that he wanted to—that Lucius was going to arrange for Draco to be brought to him for—he just couldn't take it anymore. He felt so dirty and trapped. He thought he-he'd just-that it'd be better if he left his body behind…they-they could so what they wanted to his body and not touch **_him _**anymore."

Snape paled further, "Are you saying Potter that Draco was sexually abused?" His voice was hoarse and oddly humane.

Harry nodded, "Since he was four." Hs face crumpled in misery as he continued," H-he s-said…he said he was a wh-wh-whore. But it wasn't true!" cried the Boy-Who-Lived. "He was brave and strong and smart and he didn't deserve what happened it wasn't his fault! I hate them. I hate them so much!" Harry hung his head and sobbed into his cradled hands.

Dumbledore poured a cup of tea then added the contents of a phial from his desk and handed it to Madame Pomfrey. "Here Harry drink this." She crouched by the young man until he'd finished the cup and the potion took effect. "Calming draught," she said simply when she spotted the question in his eyes.

"Thank you sir. Thank you Madame Pomfrey."

"That's quite alright Harry. This is all very difficult," The Headmaster tilted his head a little and examined the young man before him. He nodded. "What you've said Harry confirms what Draco himself wrote in the letter he left behind. A copy of that letter has been sent to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Those named will be brought in for questioning under Veritaserum and punished. I'm afraid though you'll have to give a statement."

Harry nodded, "We know-um-knew. He thought they might need a statement from me and to question me since they can't question him."

Snape's eyes narrowed yet again, "Why would they question you Potter?"

He cast the Potions Master a disbelieving look, "You yourself taught me Occulemency Professor. Did you think I wouldn't learn the other half of that practice?"

Dumbledore nodded as his eyes regained a bit of their twinkle, "You've become a Legilimens."

"Yes sir," he answered though he knew there wasn't really a question.

"I want to see," Snape demanded.

"No." Harry was calm now. His eyes still bloodshot and his voice still hoarse, but he sat up in his chair and met the Potions Master's gaze head on.

"You little—"

"Severus control yourself," Dumbledore said quietly.

Snape took a step back and calmed himself as Harry continued speaking to the room at large. "I will only share what I know for the questioning. Draco trusted me to be his voice. To stand up for him and I will. But no one else gets to know or see what he shared with me. If he'd wanted anyone else to know or trusted anyone else to know he would've told them or shown them."

He turned to look at the Potions Master, "You'll have to face your blindness on your own Professor. Draco needed you and you weren't there. You don't get to go rooting through my head now to assuage your guilt for not seeing what was right in front of you.

You, like everyone else, wanted him to play a role—to be the sneering arrogant Ice Prince of Slytherin. And you got what you wanted. He was captured in that ice so much that this was the only way he could see to break free. You all trapped him in the cold where he couldn't breathe, where he was always on display. You wanted him to be above everyone else, like he was fixed on a pedestal like some paragon or something, but really all it did was make him untouchable, alienate him from anyone who could see him or help him.

It was really hard for us to become friends but we did because I finally saw that there was more to Draco Malfoy than the arrogant pureblood. He was a whole different person behind the ice façade. A person I loved very much."

Harry stood on weakened legs as the Potions Master gaped. "Sir I'd like to return to the infirmary if there's nothing else?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No Harry, there's nothing else, you may go. Poppy if you'll escort Mr. Potter to the infirmary and see to him please."

The Matron nodded, "Of course Albus," as she guided Harry from the office.

Snape sunk into the recently vacated chair when the door closed, "Albus—"

Dumbledore sighed, "He's very perceptive for seventeen Severus. And he spoke true. We did not see beyond the façade and that is a burden we must all deal with. Now come my boy. There are some very sad tidings I must announce at breakfast. And then I must return to see to Narcissa Malfoy, as Lucius is still officially in hiding post his escape from Azkaban. Though I dare say with the information Draco provided it is most likely the Ministry will see fit to raid Malfoy Manor before he can slink away again."

Snape nodded though he didn't move from his seat. "My only godchild. My own godson and I didn't see. How could I not have known Albus?"

Despite what one might assume Dumbledore came around his desk and held the stricken man. He said nothing as stilted tears became choking sobs and finally when the storm had passed, he held out a handkerchief and his hand and the two made their way to the Great Hall in silence. Each lost in a world of 'what-ifs'.

Breakfast was well underway when they arrived and all eyes turned to watch the Headmaster enter. He held up his hands and the remaining whispers and conversations ended. "My dear students, it is with deepest regret and great sorrow that I must tell you that one of your colleagues has died in the night."

Murmurs started up as students craned their necks around to see who from the student body was missing that morning. "Grief counsellors from the Bereavement and Mental Health Ward at St. Mungo's will be joining us for the remainder of the week. Any student may go at any time to speak to them privately. Death is always a hard thing to face my children, you mustn't be afraid to seek help in attending to your grief or your fears.

"Suicide seems to be a taboo word, something no one mentions in public." There was a pause as a collective gasp made its way through the hall. Hushed whispers spread like wildfire but the headmaster continued.

"That cannot continue if those who are at risk are to be saved. Draco Malfoy's suicide will have long lasting effects ones that you shouldn't be ashamed to talk about. And if anyone needs help at any time, if you feel trapped or that perhaps ending your life is the only option, please know that the faculty is here for you. We are here to teach you and listen to you and counsel you. You are not alone in what you are feeling and we want to help.

Classes today are cancelled and all students will return to their dormitories. The counsellors will be arriving soon but in the meantime your Head of House is available to you. One counsellor will be stationed in each of your Common Rooms, but there will be others in more private settings throughout the school and your Heads of House and Prefects will be able to direct you to them."

Dumbledore sat down and the room erupted, though all eyes were on the Slytherin tables. Not willing to leave themselves open for display Slytherin Prefects stood and led their House back to the dungeons. Quickly following their example other Prefects followed and soon the Great Hall was empty though the corridors were alive with speculation and tale telling.

Harry made his way into the Gryffindor Common Room later that afternoon. He was instantly besieged by Ron and Hermione, and a dozen others, who wanted to know why he'd run off during dinner and if he knew about "THE SUICIDE" Harry snarled at them to back off. All he wanted was to trudge up to the dormitories to curl up in his bed. He didn't want to think about a world where he'd never hear Draco's laugh or see him smile again. It hurt too much.

"C'mon mate, tell us. Where'd you go last night? You were acting all funny after you got that package," Ron pushed.

Harry's head snapped up, "Where is it? Did anyone pick it up last night?"

Hermione handed over his school satchel and the parcel box. Harry snatched it from her hands, "I-I got curious, Harry, you were acting so weird and…"

Harry's eyes narrowed, "You had no right. You may think you know everything Hermione or that you're entitled to know everything but you don't and you aren't." His eyes bored into hers. "Did you tell anyone else what you saw?"

Hermione backed away frightened of this Harry, this hard eyed boy who seemed dangerous and not at all like her friend. "N-no. I-I was going to tell Ron but I went to the library to look something up about it and didn't get a chance to."

Judging hers to be an honest answer, Harry nodded. "Come with me Hermione." He shoved the box into his satchel and pulled her up to the boys' dorm. He heard footsteps behind them and hollered, "Stay there, Ron, I wish to see Hermione alone."

He reached into his robe and fingered his wand with his free hand hating what he was about to do. But Hermione had crossed the line and what was coming was her own fault. He smirked as he thought about her familiar. At least curiosity wasn't going to kill her…this time.

They burst into the room and Harry slammed the door behind them. He turned to his friend, "'Mione I'm sorry."

"Harry? I don't understand, what's going on and…" Her eyes grew wide as he pulled his wand. "Harry don—"

"Stupefy!" Hermione crumpled while Harry waved his wand round the room.

"Silencio!" He'd said the first spell firmly but not loudly. For what was coming though he wanted no eavesdroppers.

"Incarcerous!"

"Ennervate!"

After his friend woke bound, he placed locking wards on the doors. He took a deep breath and again whispered his apologies as he delved into her mind. He was careful not to touch on personal things, instead bringing the memories of what she'd seen the night before, the research she'd done in the library and her thoughts on Harry and Draco to the forefront of her mind. Their experience with Gilderoy Lockhart had taught them that memory charms though simple could be dangerous and he had no desire to hurt or maim his brainy friend. Satisfied that he'd collected all the appropriate memories and ignoring Hermione's tears, he stepped back.

"I'm sorry Mione, but you had no right and I can't let you keep what you learned."

Harry frowned, "It's not like you'll even remember this as a lesson for the future though I wish you could."

He paused and thought—maybe he could make it so she would remember enough to learn a lesson. He shifted through her memories again weaving together bits and pieces from the previous evening and today. It would be enough that perhaps she wouldn't notice he'd performed a memory charm for a while and it would satisfy the others. He sighed weary from his actions. No time to think about violation now though, wand outstretched he took a breath.

"OBLIVIATE!"

Those gathered in the Gryffindor Common Room waited anxiously for their friends to descend the stairs, especially after they'd seen a flash of bright light from underneath the 7th year boys' rooms.

Seamus had grabbed Ron who tried charging up the stairs when the flash ended, "No Ron. Whatever's happening up there is between the two of them. They have to sort it out. It'll be fine." He'd barely gotten the words out when Hermione came down the stairs.

"Hermione!" Ron grabbed his girlfriend and led her to one of the couches where the 7th years gathered around her while younger students tried to place themselves at the periphery to catch what they could.

"What happened up there?" Ron demanded.

Hermione shook her head, "Not much Ron, more of the kind of stuff he said down here. He's really angry with me. He just didn't want to embarrass me screaming his head off in front of everybody."

"So what was in the box anyway?" Dean asked.

Hermione looked up confused, "How should I know?"

"Well you said you opened it right Mione?" Ron asked.

She shook her head, "No I saw the box, I didn't see what was in it. I'd asked Harry but then he took off remember?"

"Right but then you said you opened it when you grabbed his bag from the Great Hall. You were worried and wanted to know what it was remember?"

She frowned, she didn't remember, but here were her friends saying that's what she'd done. She was confused. "No. No I didn't I would've remembered. After dinner I went to the Library looked up some runes for Arithmancy and came back here."

Ron frowned something wasn't adding up, but Harry was his best friend he'd never hurt Hermione so why wasn't she remembering. Then he recalled the flash. "Mione what was that flash of light while you were up there with Harry?"

She scrunched up her nose, "Ron what are you talking about?"

"We all saw it while you were up with Harry there was a bright flash of light just before you came down. What was it?"

She shook her head, "I don't know what you're talking about. Harry and I had a bit of row. I said I was sorry and came back down. That's all Ron. Why does this feel like I'm being interrogated or something."

"Because that's what it is," Harry drawled from the doorway. "An interrogation. They're pumping you, well trying to anyway, for information. And I really don't know why," Harry glared at the assembly, "it's not like you have anything to tell them really."

"True. Look why don't we all just go study or something. Dumbledore cancelled classes today but we'll be back in session tomorrow."

The students around her grumbled and dispersed. She stood and went to work on her Transfiguration essay but not before she bounced off the couch and pecked Ron on the cheek. "Meet me in the library in an hour okay?"

The tall teen blushed and nodded, when she was off he rounded off on his friend, "We need to talk"

In a scene very much like the one just enacted with Hermione, Harry found himself being dragged to the boys' dormitories. Ron threw him towards his bed then crossed his arms across his chest.

"What. Happened. Up. Here?"

Harry fixed his friend with a hard glare, "Hermione already told you now leave off."

"We saw a flash of light up here and she doesn't remember that. Something must've happened Harry," Ron flushed as his anger grew.

"I said leave it be Ron. Nothing that happened up here concerns you."

"Like hell it doesn't!" the other boy yelled. "My best mate and my girlfriend go off for a secret chat. Neither will tell me what they talked about and some light flashed like a spell or something…" He grew quiet, "Harry what did you do to Mione?"

Harry sighed, "I made it so she'll remember that meddling in other people's affairs is sometimes painful. Next time she goes poking into things she shouldn't she'll think twice. I didn't hurt her Ron. Now leave it go."

Ron stared at his friend, "I-I can't believe you'd do something like that Harry. You need to take it off whatever hex it is. I can't believe you'd abuse her trust and your power like that."

He looked at his friend disappointed, "That's a really slimy Slytherin way of acting Harry—something like that arsehole Malfoy would do. Not you."

Harry's head popped up, "What did you call him?" His voice was low and dangerous.

Ron snorted, "C'mon Harry, you're not going to say you actually feel sorry for that git are you? Nicest thing he's ever done for anybody was off himself. At least we all got a day out of classes for it."

"Get out Ron."

"What Harry. It's not like he was a nice person. The world's better off if you ask me. One less Death Eater for us to worry about."

Tears of helpless rage and utter grief filled Harry's eyes, "Ron. Get out. And if you want us to stay friends don't **ever **say that kind of shite about Draco again."

Confusion and anger creased his friend's brow, "Harry I don't understand, first you hex Hermione or whatever you did. And we're not done on that subject either. And now you're sticking up for that arrogant bigoted bastard Malfoy. What's wrong with you!"

Harry looked up as the tears spilled, "We are done on the Hermione subject, that's between the two of us. Not you. And stop saying shite about Draco. He's dead Ron! Have a little respect. You never knew him. You don't know what the fuck you're talking about so you should shut the hell up."

Ron was taken aback. Harry rarely cursed, and now he was cursing him over Draco Malfoy? Something was very wrong. "Of course I knew him Harry. We all knew Malfoy. He's been tormenting us since first year. He's-well he was-an arrogant, conceited, bigoted, stuck-up, pompous son-of-a-bit-"

Ron was caught of guard and was absolutely stunned when Harry used the silencing spell on him. "I listened to enough of your crap Ron. I told you. You're my best friend, but if you can't grow up enough to realise that Draco wasn't the same person he was when he was 11 then you have a problem, and we're going to have a problem, because he was my friend and his death hurts—a lot. And I didn't tell you we'd become friends because I knew that you would continue to act like a naïve 11 year old when it came to Draco so we kept it secret from everyone but people we felt we could trust.

You want to know about it you can ask Ginny. But I'm not going to sit here and listen to you bad mouth him, especially when he can't defend himself. He was—he was a very special person. I'm just sorry you'll never get a chance to get to know who he really was."

Harry lay back on his bed and pulled the curtains. "I'm tired and I'm going to sleep now Ron. You need to go calm down and have someone take the silencing spell off you. Don't bother coming back up to yell at me. I'm casting a silencing spell around my bed and locking charms on the curtains. I'm not coming out of here until I've calmed down and I'm ready to talk to people."

That said Harry sealed the bed curtains leaving Ron gaping and fuming. He pulled the parcel out of his bag and again let the silver silk handkerchief fall open in his hand. He put the chain and pendant around his neck then lifted the ring.

"Lumos."

In the quiet light he read the inscription, in that instant glad that he'd pillaged Hermione's memory. Given his secret fascination with Muggle literature it figured Draco would have a line of Muggle poetry in his ring. And he knew the line was meant for him that either the ring or the inscription were somewhat new. While it hurt deeply to know Draco had been plotting for so long, it warmed him to know his love had left him something so meaningful. He traced the words, the inscription tiny to fit it all and he knew from Hermione's memory it wasn't everything. He made a note to go to the library and check out a book of poems by Dylan Thomas.

He lay back and slid the ring on his finger whispering the words he knew would be with him always, "Though lovers be lost Love shall not and death shall have no dominion."

As he closed his eyes he felt Draco's warmth in his heart and he smiled.

**A/N 2:** So what do you think? Review please.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** One last time for those in the back…nope they're not mine. All Rowling's and whoever else owns the copyrights.

**A/N:** This is the last bit. Leave a review so I know what you thought-please please! And a big thank you to those who have reviewed—it means more than you can know. And again Thank You to **wirlybird** for being my beta on this one.

**3.**

I wasn't sorry. I had regrets, but who among us here doesn't have some regrets. It saddened me to see Harry's friendship with Ron and Hermione become so strained. They were deeply hurt that Harry had been confiding in Ginny and not them, but learned that Ginny was the kind of friend Harry had needed in that last year. One with an open mind and who didn't judge or try to make decisions for him based on what she wanted for him.

I was glad Granger and the Weasel got their acts together before the final battle. Harry needed them with him. I was surprised that Harry had done what he did to Hermione. From then on every time she pushed someone to give up information they felt was deeply private or personal or any time she tried to pick at her memories of that day or to tried remove what they discovered was a memory modification spell she'd have an instantly torturous migraine. Despite what Ron said it's not something I would have ever considered—well I might have if I'd ever thought of something like that. In some ways Harry was more brilliantly devious than anyone gave him credit for. Ever proudly, his great-grandfather Michael said it was the Slytherin in him. I tend to agree, and among all these Gryffindors it's nice to have a fellow Slytherin to talk to now and then. But in general I really like the Potters and their friends. I've found myself a sort of family here with them.

When I first arrived they kept me from wholly letting my soul go and fading into nothingness. They kept me here in the waiting place with them so I could be with Harry again. Lily cried and hugged me when I first came and then she scolded me. I now know where Harry's temper comes from. She wasn't angry with me. She understood why I wanted to leave, why I felt too burdened and too dirty to go on. She was disappointed that no one helped me that I felt death was my only option, and she was sad because it meant that her son would never have the kind of love he should in life.

I didn't want to hear that. I screamed at her and told her she was lying, that Harry would find someone wonderful and beautiful and he'd have 6 kids and be a great Dad and have all the love and family he'd been denied. I railed against a future where Harry was lonely. I didn't want to believe it. But she sat me down and waited for me to end my little tantrum and explained that Harry wouldn't be bereft of happiness, it's just that he'd never know complete joy. She was really sad when she told me that Harry would never be with anyone because he'd be waiting for me. She made me face what I'd known for a long time but didn't want to see. Harry was for me, as I was for him. He really was my soul's match.

It hurt to watch him give testimony to the Wizengamot and James held me as my memories spilled from Harry's mouth. I'd left the body and most of my shame behind, but some remained, and James showed me it was misplaced. I didn't have to watch, but I did and James was proud of me, which felt so good. It was more real than my own father's pride when I was living and made me feel for the first time that I was someone's son. He was proud of Harry for being my voice, and I was proud of him too, though I know it hurt him to have to see, hear and repeat what I'd endured.

Sev was there and I regret not confiding in him. He wove his guilt for failing me into his misery and wore it like a cloak for the rest of his life. He's around here somewhere but he's never sought me out and I am content to stay with the Potters while I wait for Harry so unless he's rid himself of his guilt and his hatred I won't be seeing him for a long time.

I regret not being by Harry's side as he grew and changed, but I was so proud to see him mature and fully come into his abilities. Prouder still when he destroyed Voldemort and saved our world from his evil and hatred.

I loved seeing him as Godfather to Ron and Hermione's 3 children. They filled a void in his life and gave him the strength to keep loving and caring, even when he was sometimes tempted to give in to bitterness and depression.

I have to add that I'm really glad Harry and Hermione convinced Ron to take the money left him in my estate. He was going to turn it down—convinced it was some kind of statement about being 'better than him from beyond the grave.' Harry punched him. Hermione yelled at him. They all stewed for a bit then calmed down and talked about it. Harry read the parts of my will for Ron very slowly as though he was speaking to a dim-witted child, which admittedly at that time Ron was doing a pretty good impression. He asked him if he thought I'd been facetious about the scholarships too and after Ron thought about it for a while he finally understood what it was I'd been trying to say. And he used the money well. Invested it and made sure there was plenty to supplement his family's needs and wants—remembering that money was only a tool, that real riches weren't anything that could be held in Gringotts.

I laughed heartily along with Remus and Sirius when he became the Hogwarts DADA teacher. And we all had a good time watching the pranks his students pulled and his own continuing misadventures.

I was so happy for him when he became Headmaster. He was truly an inspiration to watch and he made sure that students from all houses were treated fairly, and did a lot that went a long way towards lessening the animosity and violence in house rivalries. His will be a lasting legacy at Hogwarts.

And damn the Malfoy stoicism, I cried when he had the 1st, 2nd and 4th floors of the Southwest wing renovated into the Draco L. Malfoy Student Guidance Centre and hired 3 full time counsellors for students who struggled with themselves, other students, or their home lives. There were larger meeting rooms for group sessions on the 2nd floor and private bedrooms on the 4th floor where students struggling with nightmares or who had trouble with their dorm mates could stay that were safe and secure. During the renovations the walls of the classrooms on the 3rd floor were removed so it was just one cavernous hallway with many windows. Finally Embeth Pinter, the Head Counsellor, talked Harry into letting her do something with the space. I had to agree that it was sort of spooky, plus Peeves had taken to using the echoing space to frighten students.

She turned it into an elegant conservatory with the help of Herbology Professor Longbottom, and even students who didn't frequent the Guidance Centre liked to go there for the serenity and solitude found there. Harry never stepped foot on that floor though and all the students knew it. It added to the floor's mystique in a way I guess, though very few ever knew why he wouldn't go there. He didn't even tell the counsellors, besides Dumbledore, Pomfrey, McGonagall, and Sev no one ever knew where I'd gone to die. Sometimes I'd watch him prowl the school at night staring into the 3rd floor from the stairwell. Those were some of the times I regretted my decision most. I wanted so badly to go and comfort him, wrap my arms around him and kiss away his sadness.

When Harry got sick I was scared. I was so angry they couldn't find a cure for the magically mutated Muggle virus that was striking down wizards and witches at random. I didn't want him to be sick, to be in so much pain. I didn't want him to die. But we all knew his time was coming. When my love breathed his last Lily and James took me to the Gateway to meet him. Only one soul can accompany an arrival to the place of waiting. I thought James should go or Lily or even Sirius, but they'd decided long ago amongst themselves I guess because when we got there they pushed me through without a word. And then I was in that grey Space of Between. I'd remembered coming here and being afraid the first time. Not knowing where to go or what would happen to me and how glad I was to see the beautiful auburn haired woman with familiar green eyes come towards me. As the mists lifted I saw that same confusion and uncertainty in the face of the young man before me. No matter that I'd seen him age and die and old man. He stood before me beautiful and unchanged from the 17 year old I'd fallen in love with.

"Don't be afraid Harry. Do you know who I am?" I asked repeating the words his mother had spoken to me over a century ago.

Deep set emeralds glittered with tears, "Dray?" He whispered disbelieving. "Draco is that really you?"

I sneered playfully and stepped forward reaching out my hands which he took eagerly, "Who else would it be Potter? There are no Boggarts here."

Even as the tears fell he laughed, that rich melodious laugh I remembered so well, "It must be you. Still a sarcastic prat I see."

With a wink and a grin I answered him, "We are, for the most part, in death as we were in life Harry." I grew serious, "There are places of great peace here, and great healing, and great beauty, but this is just a way-station. There is more to death than what you will see here. This isn't the end of the journey, there's more to be seen and another adventure, through the other Veils. This one though," I waved back toward our Gateway, "Is where we will stay for awhile I think. There are many souls anxious to see you."

"My parents?"

I nodded.

"Sirius?"

I smiled, "Yes and Remus too. And many more Harry." I pulled him along. "C'mon they've been waiting a long time to see you."

He didn't move with me though. I turned to look at him, "Harry. C'mon. They're waiting."

He shook his head, "Please can they wait a little longer? Can we stay here a moment?"

I nodded, the Space Between is safe for all souls, "Yes, but why do you want to stay?"

He shrugged, "I don't really. The landscape here is kind of dull after all."

It was my turn to laugh as I looked around him into the myriad shades of grey mist, "I see your point."

"I just want," his lip quivered and before I knew if he'd wrapped me in his arms. "I missed you so much," he choked out. "Every day Draco. Every single damn day was a struggle. I tried so hard to be what they wanted—the hero, the teacher, the happy and knowledgeable Headmaster, the good Godfather," he sniffed, "and I _was _those things and I had some really happy times, some truly good and wonderful times, but underneath it all, I ached so badly for you."

A tear fell and I kissed it away, "Oh Love. I'm sorry. I- I didn't know, didn't realise it had been so hard for you. I- we'd look in and see how you were doing, and sometimes I'd see you look so wistful and sad but then you'd have some wonderful experience and I thought it was all balancing out." I stroked his cheek, "I didn't mean to hurt you so my Love."

"How could it not Draco? I have been incomplete, nearly all of my adult life."

I closed my eyes as waves of regret washed over me, "I'm so sorry Harry."

He held my head against his neck and whispered, "It's okay Dray. Just-just," he sniffed, "don't ever leave me behind again."

I pulled back and smiled a little, "Never again Harry. I will always be with you." I fingered the band he'd worn on his left ring finger since the day after I died, "In a way I have always been with you."

For the second time in my existence I was kissed. Sweetly, chastely at first, then with more passion and depth, and the whole of my being hummed with contentment. This was us, as we were always meant to be—together and whole.

He pulled back and looked deep into my eyes, "Love is not lost."

"Never," I answered. Entwining our fingers I turned and led us home.

End.


End file.
